PARIS, Monday, February 5, 1674.
It is many years ago, to-day, that there came into the world a creature
destined to love you beyond every other thing in existence.[105] I beg
you not to suffer your imagination to wander either to the right hand
or to the left:--_Cet homme-là, sire, c’était moi-même._[106]
[105] She refers to her birth-day, 5th February, 1626.
[106] A line of Marot, in an epistle to Francis I. _This man,
sire, was myself._
It was yesterday three years that I felt the most poignant grief of my
whole life. You set out at that time for Provence, and you remain there
still. My letter would be very long, if I attempted to express all the
sorrow I then felt, and what I have since felt, in consequence of this
separation. But to leave this melancholy digression. I have received
no letters from you to-day. I know not whether I am to expect any,
and I fear not, as it is so late; I have, however, expected them with
impatience; I wanted to hear of your departure from Aix, and to be able
to compute, with some exactness, the time of your return. Every one
teases me, and I know not what to answer. I think but of you and your
journey. If I receive any letters from you after this is sent away, you
may make yourself perfectly easy; for I will certainly take care to do
whatever you desire me.
I write to-day a little earlier than usual. M. Corbinelli, and
Mademoiselle de Méri, are here, and have dined with me. I am going to a
little opera of Molière’s, that is to be sung at Jellison’s. It is an
excellent composition; the prince, the duke, and the duchess, will be
there. I shall, perhaps, sup at Gourville’s, with Madame de la Fayette,
the duke, Madame de Thianges, and M. de Vivonne, of whom we are to take
our leave, as he sets out from hence to-morrow. If this party is broken
up, I shall, perhaps, go to Madame de Chaulnes, where I am earnestly
invited, as well by the mistress of the house as by Cardinals de Retz
and Bouillon, who made me promise them. The first of these is very
impatient to see you; he loves you dearly.
It was apprehended that Mademoiselle de Blois had the small-pox, but it
does not prove so. There is not a word said of the news from England;
this makes me conclude there is nothing good from thence. There has
been only a ball or two at Paris during the whole carnival; there were
masques at noon, but not many. It is a very dull season. The assemblies
at St. Germain are mortifications for the king, and only show the
falling off of the carnival.
Father Bourdaloüe preached a sermon on the purification of our Lady,
which transported every body. There was such energy in his discourse
as made the courtiers tremble. Never did preacher enforce with so much
authority, and in so noble a manner, the great truths of the Gospel.
His design was to show that every power ought to be subject to the law,
from the example of our Lord, who was presented at the temple. This was
insisted on with all the strength and clearness imaginable; and certain
points were urged with a force worthy of St. Paul himself.
The Archbishop of Rheims, as he returned yesterday from St. Germain,
met with a curious adventure. He drove at his usual rate, like a
whirlwind. If he thinks himself a great man, his servants think him
still greater. They passed through Nanterre, when they met a man on
horseback, and in an insolent tone bid him clear the way. The poor man
used his utmost endeavors to avoid the danger that threatened him, but
his horse proved unmanageable. To make short of it, the coach and six
turned them both topsy-turvy; but at the same time the coach too was
completely overturned. In an instant the horse and the man, instead
of amusing themselves with having their limbs broken, rose almost
miraculously; the man remounted, and galloped away, and is galloping
still for aught I know; while the servants, the archbishop’s coachman,
and the archbishop himself at the head of them, cried out, “Stop that
villain, stop him; thrash him soundly.” The rage of the archbishop was
so great, that afterward, in relating the adventure, he said, “if he
could have caught the rascal, he would have broke all his bones, and
cut off both his ears.”
Adieu, my dear, delightful child, I can not express my eagerness to
see you. I shall direct this letter to Lyons; it is the third; the two
first were to be left with the _chamarier_. You must be got thither by
this time or never.